Untitled Stories from MGSV:TPP
by Drunken Drunk
Summary: A collection of short stories that fit into the events of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, featuring Quiet and Venom Snake.
1. Change of Heart

This chapter takes place the first time we meet Quiet, after "Mission 11: Cloaked in Silence."

* * *

She had failed her mission to kill Big Boss-again. She lay on the ground, exhausted and in pain, numbed by tranquilizer darts, thoroughly humiliated. She, one of the top operatives of Cipher's elite strike force, XOF, had failed the same mission twice in a row. She hadn't failed since she was a rookie nearly a decade ago. Who was this unsurpassable soldier? She had underestimated him; she had lost her second chance to avenge her comrades whom his old organization-that unprincipled band of mercenaries-had killed or kidnapped. It was the only reason she had joined Cipher, her driving force: revenge.

She no longer had the resolve to execute Plan B, which was to let herself be taken to the enemy's base and infect as many as possible with her vocal cord parasites, which Skull Face had said might kill her. The parasites would mature and mate once she spoke and be spread through saliva droplets in the air. Their larvae would feed on what was left of her lungs-but she didn't know what that would entail, since she no longer used them.

Skull Face had offered her a mutated form of "The One That Covers" that still let her retain her mind (a reward for her effort, he had called it), with the caveat that she become his first test host for the English strain of the vocal cord parasite. A failsafe in the case of her capture, an affliction that would never again let her communicate with members of an American culture he abhorred.

The price she paid to live again had been his punishment for her failure. But at the time, how could she-mutilated beyond recognition by burns, blind and delirious, consumed by shame and vengeance-have refused? Too late had she realized the extent of his cruelty. That organization was no better than any other. She had been naive, and now she was exiled. Whether or not she completed her mission, she couldn't see it any other way: she had been thrown away and condemned to die.

She heard her subduer walk near and felt his shadow land on her body. She heard him draw his weapon.

The legendary hero would dispose of her and live on forever. She had come this far and gone through so much only to fail. She was useless to everyone now. She had no place to which to return. She was worthless. With her numb and heavy arm, she clutched the handgun at her belt and struggled to bring it to her head.

As she felt him pulling away the gun, she opened her eyes in surprise, taking in everything by using The One That Covers. She was too weak to maintain the concentration or to do anything other than cringe as he confiscated her weapon. She swatted at him as he put handcuffs on her, then gave up, deciding to wait for his sedatives and paralytic agents to wear off.

He was probably going to take her to his base to be interrogated, so she still had a chance to kill him or everyone there. But why would he spare her? It wasn't the first time she had personally attempted to take his life. Wasn't he angry or triumphant? He didn't even try to touch her inappropriately like quite a few of the Soviets she had picked off had done. She hadn't seen anything in his face other than concentration. She didn't understand it. He placed her carefully on the bench in the helicopter so she wouldn't be lying on the floor, and after checking her handcuffs, covered her with a jacket to preserve her modesty, which confused her further. After she threw the jacket at his face, opened the door, and disappeared, he only managed to look annoyed after searching for her.

Her plan had been to feign escape from the helicopter and then to infiltrate the base in stealth, but the attacking fighter jet ruined that. Had it been sent by Cipher? If so, it only proved they were willing to sacrifice her if it meant the death of Big Boss. She would not let herself end this way.

Their pilot evaded frantically as the LGM homed towards them, and she watched her captor get thrown onto the floor as he reached for the handles of the machine gun mounted to the helicopter.

He tried and failed again. He was too late; the LGM would hit its target.

She saw a man who was about to die doing his job. A soldier, just like her, who couldn't change his fate.

He had spared her life and then stopped her from shooting herself. At the very least, she owed him. Then they would be even and she could have her revenge.

She grabbed the handles and opened fire, causing the missile to explode in the air just before it reached them. She turned to Big Boss as he looked at her, surprised at her reappearance and her actions. Then he put his hand on her shoulder as if to say, _I got this; you do what you're best at._ She picked up his sniper rifle leaning against the wall and they both nodded. _Let's do this._

After the fighter jet crashed into the ocean, the inside of its cockpit sprayed with its pilot's blood, Big Boss gave her a look of admiration. But as she held onto his rifle, ejecting the shell casings and reloading, she felt him watching her cautiously. He was looking specifically at the handcuffs dangling from one wrist, perplexed as to how she had removed one. She handed back the rifle and put the handcuff back on, then turned away from him.

They had been expecting her as the helicopter arrived at the base. Big Boss looked alarmed and offended when he noticed a laser sight aimed at his chest, before he realized someone had arranged these escorts to prevent her from going anywhere unsupervised. She peeked out and as soon as she realized she was face to face with a machine gun in another helicopter, the Boss held out his arm, fingers outstretched, to tell her to stay back, and shielded her with his body.

"No way is she setting foot on this base," called a man who she recognized from the files as Kazuhira Miller. "Boss, she's with Cipher!"

Her eyes snapped up, startled. How had he known? Did he know she had been at the hospital at Cyprus? From the doorway, Big Boss met her wide eyes with his one, and then he sat down, gazing outside. He didn't care where she had come from. But Miller was wrong.

 _I am not with Cipher. I am doing this for myself now._

She stepped past the man beside her and gave him a small smile that said _thank you_. She jumped out of the helicopter and sensed him rush to the doorway in alarm.

She wanted these soldiers to fear her, and played hide-and-seek with them. She looked around at them, showing them what she was capable of, taunting them with her confidence. Miller and the man who must have been Ocelot argued over what to do with her.

Right now, she could use the words that killed. It was a good time. Everyone important was gathered here. She could simply kill the ones that were wearing baklavas over their mouths, and the men with uncovered faces would die later if they didn't die here. Even if they seemed better trained than most soldiers she had met, she could probably take them all, screaming into their faces as she murdered them.

"Put her in the cell," called Big Boss, pushing down the rifles aimed at her. He stood beside her. A couple of the men motioned for her to get moving.

She stood still. She opened her lips to say something-anything. What to say? Just yell something! This was her chance for retribution! But the words wouldn't come, and her brows knit together in anguish. She stared at Ocelot and opened her lips again, hesitating.

"What are you waiting for? Move!" he demanded. She closed her mouth and glared.

Big Boss put a hand on her shoulder.

She couldn't do it. What was wrong with her? What had happened? She remained still until he gave her a slight nudge with his hand. She turned to look at him. Instead of issuing a command, he simply looked at her.

 _I trusted you. You can trust me. It will be okay._

She turned and headed for the cell.

* * *

Days went by. Before they asked her questions, they tried to force her to wear their uniform. As two soldiers restrained her, she had punched another who had managed to get pants up her legs. She heard later that his lung had been punctured by the broken ribs. After that, only the most senior soldiers were allowed to go near her or guard her cell, and Ocelot asked the medical staff to observe her body and figure out what she was capable of. He seemed a reasonable man compared to Miller, who never even used their codename for her and treated her like a monster.

Sometimes she focused her hearing and heard Ocelot in an office on another platform recording notes on cassette tapes meant for the Boss. He was right that the lock on her cell door was a joke, and he was right that she was still conflicted. They asked her questions, but she remained mute. They brought translators and gave her pen and paper, but she didn't respond. Miller yelled at Ocelot to use his truth serum, and Ocelot refused. What would they do with her once she told them everything, or once they got tired of her behavior? Surely they wouldn't execute her? They wouldn't gain anything if she told them how she had ended up here, or why she had joined Cipher. They already knew Skull Face lead their most powerful enemy. And she would gain nothing. So she told them nothing, and simply followed all other orders and let them run their tests.

She often felt betrayed and at a loss, and some days she just lay listlessly on the cot. She wanted to avenge her comrades' deaths and get back at Skull Face for abandoning her. But she didn't want to hurt the Boss. He couldn't have been the one who killed her unit so brutally, right? Maybe he didn't deserve it. She couldn't decide anymore.

The Diamond Dogs did not treat her poorly even though she was a prisoner. It was a severe contrast to how Cipher treated their prisoners. She had often witnessed experiments and torture that resulted in death. She had seen prisoners turned into mindless Skulls, forced to fight their former allies. She had heard about men, women, and children being raped and forced to rape each other. And in her journey for vengeance, she had turned a blind eye to it all.

Perhaps enemies were relative, changing with the times.

* * *

Big Boss had stopped by her cell once for Ocelot to give him a summary of their findings on her. He had been concerned when the parasites in her skin had clamored to the surface to drink the shower water, causing her to freeze in place. Ocelot had suggested he take her out on a mission. She knew it was partly to test her allegiance, but she would not make them distrust her now. She didn't mind listening to the radio all day; it was a welcome break from years of constant fighting, but she did miss being outside. She missed fighting. But most of all, she wanted to learn more about the Boss who was a mystery. She finally admitted to herself that he was handsome-but it was more than that which drew her to him.

She focused her hearing and listened for him sometimes, but other than his irregular sleep schedule, he seemed to have the most mundane routine. When he wasn't out on missions, he drove around checking on all the platforms and trained with recruits he ran into. He managed Mother Base using the iDroid device. He played with the wolf that Ocelot was raising. He ate in the mess hall with everyone else, and ate a lot. He listened to cassette tapes. He didn't do anything fun, unless he thought target practice was fun. He never complained, even when he returned from missions with injuries. He rarely spoke. He slept alone in his quarters and was visited by nightmares half the time, but he never vocalized their contents. Sometimes, when exhausted, he napped in random places, such as on the edge of a platform above the sea, and she would feel calm listening to his steady breathing.

"She seems so like you," Ocelot had said to the Boss.

* * *

She had a dream that night.

She was in the hospital in Cyprus to assassinate Big Boss. She'd choked the nurse. She was choking the doctor, the skin of his neck splitting open under the force of her wire.

"Ahab," as she had heard the doctor call Big Boss, was scrawny and scarred, with disheveled brown hair and beard. Black shrapnel poked out through bandages around his head, and his right eye was cloudy with cataracts, probably blind. She could hear his heart rate monitor beeping so rapidly that she thought he might die of a heart attack before she could kill him. He scraped the sheets with the little hook on his prosthetic arm, attempting to back away. He gaped at her, and with a crash was shoved off his cot onto the floor as the struggling doctor kicked wildly.

Someone called to ask if she had completed her task yet so they could clean up any evidence pointing to Cipher. Not yet, she answered, because the patient in the bed next to her target's had seen her face. Why, yes, of course she could kill that patient, too. Big Boss was the priority, though. The other patient with a completely bandaged head was merely lying there staring, open-mouthed, apparently unable to move.

She turned around and stepped toward "Ahab," holding her knife as a threat. He was reaching for the gun, but he didn't even have the strength to crawl towards it. He couldn't even prop himself up on the prosthetic arm. He was gasping in despair.

This was supposed to be the legendary Big Boss? This thing on the floor was pathetic.

She picked up the gun and aimed it between his terrified blue eyes. This is for what you and your MSF scum did to my comrades, she thought, and then-

She suddenly woke with a shock, clenching the sheets of her cot beneath her fists, staring into the moonlight between the grates of her ceiling.

"Hey! You were spasming. Should I call a medic?" called the soldier on guard near the stairwell. She shook her head.

Her whole body was tense. She slowly let her limbs relax after convincing herself they were working, neither burned nor atrophied with years of disuse. Her chest hurt. She felt like crying.

 _I was about to slaughter an entirely helpless, decent human being._

She would never hurt the Boss again. She would not speak the words that killed. She would not utter a word of any language; silence would be her atonement. She would even think in her mother tongue, Russian, and attempt to learn more Navajo, in case she unconsciously spoke English aloud.

It had been so long; she had to move on. The old wound would never fully heal, and she knew she would hold onto it, but she had to try. Revenge was only a confession of pain, causing a consuming hatred in everyone it affected.

 _I saw him as pathetic, but minutes later I was begging a tyrant for my life. We were both technically dead. We lost almost everything. He lost nine years of his life, yet he still has the capacity to forgive. He has comrades and followers, but he is as alone as I am. I can begin to understand his burden and his pain._

 _He is just like me. A soldier just like me. A human just like me._


	2. Attack on the Diamond Dog

The recruit was infected. Quiet had seen it in his throat when she'd focused her vision; his larynx was at a feverish temperature. How had he become host to the vocal cord parasite? Was he a spy who had let himself be captured? Was his intent to kill the Boss because she had failed?

She had panicked, materializing through her cell to slip past the guards. The infected recruit was a threat to Mother Base and to her. She wouldn't be able to stay here if they found out about her curse. She had hunted him without thinking.

She plunged the knife into the man's mouth and angled the sharp edge toward his tongue, trying to reach the back of it so she could cut it out. He must not be allowed to speak. She would not let him harm the Boss or his home.

Blood flowed from the man's mouth and he sobbed in terror. She had only pierced some of his tongue, so she pressed more of her weight onto the knife. His front teeth broke under the pressure of the blade with a crunching sound. How dare he spread the infection?

"Stop this!" someone called. "Now!"

She spun around as she felt the hand pulling on her shoulder, intending to swing the blade close to the assailant's throat and kick him away, but the man pushed the knife from her grasp and blocked her kick in the time it took for her to realize it was the Boss. She didn't want to fight him; she only wanted to neutralize the threat. She wanted to shout at him to stay away. She struggled under his knee on her spine, cringing at the pain in her twisted arm, crying out in frustration.

"What the fuck, you freak!" yelled the infected recruit, sitting up. She realized now that he probably hadn't been sent here to kill, but she didn't care. The parasites would mate, infect other hosts, and continue the reign of death endlessly from the corpses. Quiet thrashed desperately. She had to stop it.

"Gimme a hand!" the Boss called, and the injured soldiers dove onto her.

"Can't CQC the Boss, bitch," one of them snarled breathlessly, digging his nails into her leg. She managed to kick off another soldier with a thud.

"Hold her still!" ordered Ocelot, and her world went dark.

* * *

She woke up in her cell. The usual number of guards had more than doubled, and they looked more experienced than the last group. One of them said something into a walkie-talkie. Another one sneered at her, baring his teeth. She turned the radio on and ignored them; she had to think about what to do.

She had attacked the infected man impulsively, but there could be other infected recruits whom she hadn't seen. She didn't know what to tell her handlers. They didn't know about the vocal cord parasite. If they found out-when they found out-they would exile or kill her. It was only a matter of time, if her guess regarding Skull Face's plan for the world was correct.

Five minutes later she heard a truck drive near and stop. She turned off the radio. Ocelot came into her cell and he signaled the guards to leave. She looked at him through the bars.

"Quiet, why did you attack that man?"

She didn't know what to tell him.

"What did he do to you?"

How could she tell him the truth without giving away the fact that she was carrying a similar-or perhaps even the same-parasite? That she had chosen to reject her mission to kill Big Boss and his Diamond Dogs? He probably wouldn't believe her.

She pointed to her throat. _There is something in the man's throat that should not be there._

"He tried to strangle you?"

She shook her head. She opened her mouth and waved her hand to imitate speaking. _I don't know what language has activated his parasites, but I know they spread through saliva. Talking, coughing, and sneezing will infect others around him._

"He said something you didn't like," Ocelot deadpanned.

Quiet shook her head and pointed at her mouth, slightly open.

"There's something wrong with his mouth," guessed Ocelot, "Or in his mouth."

She nodded; it was close enough.

"The medical staff did say it looked like he was coming down with a cold," he continued, "But it's something else, or you wouldn't have attacked him."

Quiet gave her silent assent.

"I'll keep an eye on him."

He left. Quiet gripped the cell bars, fearful and guilty, fiercely hoping they would figure it out, yet hoping they would not suspect her once they did. She bowed her head against the bars.

 _Please, keep him away from the Boss._


	3. Bond Forged in Silence

She came to know him over time.

Unlike most people she had come to know, with knowledge came trust.

* * *

"This is ridiculous! She doesn't talk! How could you possibly stay in communication?"

"Look, his other options are a dog and a horse. I'm sure the Boss can figure it out."

* * *

To go on her first mission, Ocelot had instructed her to sneak into the Boss's helicopter at 0700 hours as he distracted the guards, so the staff and Miller wouldn't find out she had gone until later. The flight to the Angola-Zaire border, about 1800 miles from Mother Base, would take at least thirteen hours, so they would arrive in the dark of night.

She looked forward to observing the enigmatic Big Boss in his natural element, and was excited at the prospect of honing her skills again. Fidgeting and looking out the window behind the pilot as they gained altitude, she heard the sound of the iDroid closing and Big Boss clipping it back onto a chest strap.

She was suddenly aware of his unrelenting stare out of the corner of her eye. Was he actually staring at her chest? Did he have that kind of attitude toward women? She didn't want to believe it. She knew that he never spent time with women, but one never knew. Some men simply liked to flirt. Hell, even she used to flirt, although it had been years ago. But in this case, they barely knew each other, so it was inappropriate; it didn't matter how attractive or admirable he was.

In her former life, men had gawked at her so rarely because she had been in a high position and wore full gear turned shapelessly bulky with stuffed pockets-but it did happen, and she would always snap at the gawker, "What's your problem?"

But she couldn't talk now and she wasn't the leader here, so she turned to glare at the Boss, frustrated that she had to wear so little to survive. And he was indeed gazing at her breasts. No, wait...his eye was unfocused and going right through her, his expression impassive. What was he thinking about? She continued frowning at him with narrowed eyes, and it took him a second before he noticed and blinked. She turned away just as he focused on her face.

"Sorry," she heard him say, and she turned, surprised. He gestured to the obsidian-like shrapnel embedded in his forehead. "Sometimes, I..." He paused and looked away as if deciding whether to disclose something private. He made his choice and fixed her eyes with his own.

"You'll need to snap me out of it if I see things that aren't there," he stated. It sounded like an order.

Stunned, Quiet nodded.

* * *

She had always liked to show off her skills. She lived for the thrill of being on the battlefield. It made her feel excited, thoroughly alert, supremely confident, and at the same time, serene.

She spotted Big Boss as a quick movement crawling through the grass up a hill. He had to feel the same way about his work; it was clear after going on a half-dozen missions with him. Once, when they had cleared a task in a matter of minutes, he had given her a tiny smile and held up his fist in a gesture that said, "Success! Good job!" She couldn't help it and had impulsively smiled back at his innocent satisfaction.

Focusing on the hilltop, she scanned again for more targets in range. The communication device Miller had given her was essentially a radio with a camera for recording the position of targets, which the Boss's iDroid would receive. She kept the device strapped on her left shoulder holster, but only when they were in the field; otherwise, she kept it turned off and in a pocket because she disliked the thought of anyone spying on her. She pressed a button on the radio and hummed a few notes to let the Boss know she had locked onto a target.

"Fire," whispered his voice from her earpiece. Using her sniper rifle equipped with tranquilizer darts, she started picking off targets that had the best line of sight to him. _Phwew!_ sounded her weapon, firing in a perfect cadence. She hit a target who had just spun around and lifted his weapon to aim at the Boss. He gave her a thumbs up and sent the man into the air with a Fulton recovery pack, then snuck inside a building.

She changed her location to cover the building's other entrance. She reloaded without missing a beat. _Phwew!_ Two men saw their friend fall, so she had to speed up the tempo for them before they searched around for the Boss. _Phwew!_

Oops. She'd gotten cocky with her headshot streak and in her routine had shot a target that the Boss had just grabbed in a headlock after springing out from the shadows. Through her scope she saw him frown in her general direction, looking a bit too much to her left since he couldn't see her through the bushes. Big Boss let the target drop to the ground and had to kick him and wait for him to become coherent before asking him where their objective was. She pressed her radio button and let static go through to say sorry.

* * *

Once, the Boss had tasked a crew of four newer recruits with gathering medicinal plants. To save GMP, he had them ride along with him and Quiet, since they were headed for the same five-mile radius for a mission. Unfortunately, the Boss had chosen nighttime for the drop-off, and the crew didn't have D-Dog to help them find the plants.

They were supposed to have gathered Wormwood and Haoma, and instead were waiting in the helicopter with bunches of any plant that included small yellow flowers. There were also some small white flowers, some large yellow flowers, and some weeds with flowers. Flashlights and night vision goggles weren't the best tools for identifying flora, Quiet thought. Big Boss asked the soldiers how their collecting had gone, and they reluctantly presented the plants in their canvas bags, embarrassed. He peered into them and immediately sneezed, causing a cloud of dust and pollen to puff up into the helicopter cabin.

He sneezed a few more times as the helicopter took off, causing Miller to ask over the radio if he had caught a cold. When the Boss answered in the negative, Ocelot suggested that he might have an allergy to one of the plants they had collected. Usually, he theorized, Big Boss traversed the Afghan landscape without problems, but it was flowering season for many of the plants, and the crew must have collected a flowering plant that was rare enough for him to barely notice symptoms unless subjected to a significant quantity. Hearing this, the soldiers tied off their bags of plants and placed them under the front seat beside the pilot, and opened the doors briefly to let the cool night air blow away remaining pollen.

Someone passed the Boss a handkerchief, and all the others followed suit. He muttered his thanks but kept sniffling, and his eyes got so puffy and watery that he had to lift his eye patch to wipe tears accumulated beneath it. He cleared his throat and coughed due to the excessive mucus production. Quiet, sitting beside him, thought he must feel miserable, and all she could do was help him take off his larger weapons to lean them against the wall. She picked up and handed back his canteen which he had taken out and suddenly dropped due to a forceful sneeze.

"Snake! What was that noise? You okay?" asked Miller's voice.

"Yeah," managed the Boss in a nasal tone, "Dropped my canteen. I'll be fine, Kaz."

"I-I can't listen to this anymore," said Miller. "You sound horrible. I'll get the medical staff to look at those plants when you're back. I'm out."

"Boss! Check the first aid kit in the back," said the pilot.

"Are you having trouble breathing? Any swelling? There should be an epinephrine autoinjector in the kit," said Ocelot.

"It's not that bad," said the Boss through a handkerchief.

"Well, take something anyway or tranq yourself if it gets too bad. You still have over twelve hours to go."

Big Boss didn't reply and Quiet glanced at him leaning stoically against the cabin wall. She realized he would have to go around her to rummage through the kit, so she turned to her right and opened the cargo compartment.

She found the kit, knelt on the floor, and opened it on her seat, picking out a couple pills of diphenhydramine. She touched the Boss's knee and he accepted the pills wearily, taking them with a swig from his canteen.

Fifteen minutes later, all but one of the new recruits were asleep. Quiet noticed a light pressure on her shoulder as the helicopter swayed. She couldn't see the Boss's functional eye since he was on her left, but the antihistamines must be taking effect because he had stopped sneezing and was nodding off. He caught himself before he leaned on her too heavily, looked around, then slumped back against the cabin wall when he judged everything was fine. She wanted tell him not to fight the drugs, that she would stay awake to keep watch, so she sat up straighter, caught his eye, and gave a quick nod, putting a hand on his forearm. He nodded back and settled into the seat to sleep.

* * *

She learned that the Boss always put others before himself.

A morning mission to extract a researcher and gather intel had gone on much longer than usual. While scouting, Quiet had spotted a mining camp half a mile away. Miller had asked the Boss to extract the children as soon as he saw from the binocular data how thin, ill, and dirty they were. So after completing their mission, they snuck into the camp, stole a truck, and drove back to the LZ with the five children and two women who had acquiesced. It was nearly 0940 by that time, and the oppressive desert sun began to beat down on them.

Miller had sent two Diamond Dog soldiers and a medic with Pequod to assist with handling the extra people, and they all barely fit into the helicopter.

"I'll take the next one," Big Boss said. Quiet noticed him eyeing the water and packaged meals that the soldiers took out for the children, but he looked away when they clamored for it.

"Are you sure? It's going to be 106 degrees by the time the other chopper gets there. Two of the kids are sitting on the floor; they don't take up much space. With a little Tetris, you could make it work," proposed Ocelot.

"Tetris?" asked Big Boss.

"It's, uh, a video game that just came out in Russia a couple months ago."

"We'll wait."

They waited for the next three hours for another helicopter to arrive from a ship in the Indian Ocean. Big Boss chose some shade under a rock face, and she chose a location with higher elevation to keep watch. It was in direct sunlight, so it was actually nice until she realized her body was thirsty, and there was no water to be found unless she went back to the mining camp. She looked there and the horizon shimmered. She didn't carry a canteen because she had always been able to find fresh water, but after today she thought she would make space on her belt for one.

"Quiet, come here." Big Boss's voice sounded raspy. He was lying on his front, propped up by his elbows, when she went to kneel beside him. He sat up and held out his canteen for her to take, but she moved his wrist higher and scooted closer. She was afraid that if she poured it herself, she would be unable to move and would use all his water. He understood and poured a small stream over her head. The parasites absorbed them instantly, and she sighed in relief. He leaned against the rock and took a sip. She heard his stomach growl. He turned to pour more water onto her, but she pressed it back to him. It was her fault not planning for unexpected circumstances.

He drank most of the rest of the water within the next hour and a half, and was sitting still against the rock face, occasionally squinting out into the sun to scan for threats. He had offered the canteen to her again, but she had refused a second time.

"I'm used to it," he said, and he capped it and didn't drink. His lips were chapped and dust from the sand lined his face.

They had to move several feet when their shadowed area shrank. When Quiet stood up, she felt suddenly dizzy and it seemed as though a wave of heat had washed up over her head. She took a few blind steps and flopped back onto the ground as soon as she had reached the wider shaded area.

Big Boss leaned over her, concerned, and she merely blinked. She was so thirsty, but their helicopter would be there soon with water. She just had to save her energy and wait. She would just close her eyes for a few minutes.

Droplets of lukewarm water sprinkled on her face and chest, making her jump. When she opened her eyes, she nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity.

Big Boss was spraying his water pistol in short bursts into the palm of his prosthetic hand, which he held over her body. He had accidentally hit her with the weapon right after he had developed it, and she had flinched because it packed the same powerful PSI no matter how one pulled the trigger. He was letting it flow from his hand to avoid hurting her and to avoid splashing it everywhere. She felt revived almost immediately and smiled at him with her eyes.

"This thing does have a use, after all," the Boss said hoarsely, smirking slightly. "Should have thought of it earlier, but I forgot because I never use it." He shifted over to drip water onto her abdomen. She sat up when he was done, and he handed it to her to use on herself. He took his last ounce of water, shaking the canteen into his mouth. She passed the water pistol back to him when her thirst had been sated, and he opened the back where it was filled and drank from there, not caring that it was tepid tap water last filled a week ago.

She closed her eyes and listened. One helicopter, three miles to the south-southwest. They would both be just fine.

* * *

He didn't stare at her body again, but sometimes his eye would meet hers from across the cabin of the helicopter. She would hold the gaze and often give him a reserved smile, and for a few moments they would study each other with an easy understanding. Words were unnecessary. They accepted each other as they were, and asked for nothing.

* * *

After disabling Sahelanthropus, Big Boss wanted to go back to the last known location of Skull Face to finish him off and destroy his vials of vocal cord parasites. Quiet chose to remain in the helicopter when he and Miller disembarked.

She could hear everything, so she knew her former employer was done for-but frankly, all she felt was indifference and an odd sense of justice and pity.

She had long stopped walking on the winding path of revenge. She had left her past behind. Alongside an extraordinary man, she was living for the present, fighting for the future.

The person she had been before no longer existed; that person had died in flames at a hospital that night in Dhekelia.

Now, there was only Quiet.


	4. Unintended Attraction

Quiet couldn't help it: the more she learned about the Boss, the more she wanted to know. She could tell he cared for her as a partner, but she wanted a relationship more profound than that. She wanted to be closer to him, emotionally and physically; she wanted him to share with her the thoughts he never voiced. She wanted to tell him she thought of him as more than their leader, more than a soldier. She wanted him to know, no matter how damaged or burdened he viewed himself, that he was an attractive man.

Was it okay to flirt with your boss? Well, what was a little friendly flirting between confident colleagues? If he didn't like it, he didn't have to respond, and she would stop. She wouldn't touch him, and she wouldn't go to him unless he asked. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was trying to manipulate him due to concealed motives. From her past life as an assassin and a spy, she knew some targets could easily be tricked by acts of blatant seduction, and she refused to put on that act. She knew he could not completely trust her while his XO and tactical advisor didn't, so she didn't expect much. Still, she wanted to try; she cared about him too much.

Since she wouldn't pressure him and wouldn't seek him out, the only opportunity to meet him alone and express her affection was when they were in the ACC or on a flight.

She wished she hadn't glared at him the first time she had joined him on a mission. Maybe it had given him the idea that she didn't find him attractive at all, because now he never looked at specific parts of her body, only her face. Maybe he simply needed to spend more time with her to feel anything. After all, she never spoke to him, so what could he like about her other than her usefulness as a buddy? Nevertheless, she was determined to find out.

She knew she appeared desirable-in fact, in addition to helping re-grow burned flesh, the parasites had healed all her old scars and blemishes, so she had no reason to be self-conscious. She just hoped the heavily-scarred Boss wouldn't be too self-conscious to realize she liked him.

It was afternoon in the ACC, and she was waiting for him to finish studying the map and details for their upcoming mission. His expression was unreadable, as usual.

In her seat she shifted into an upright, feminine position, back slightly arched, and she watched him in her peripheral vision. He didn't notice through the blue holographic display of his iDroid. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. This time he noticed the movement through the display, but he didn't give it a second thought before focusing again on the iDroid.

She got up to look out the opposite window, putting her hands on the seat backs to expose a view of the side of her torso. She then turned to look out the front windshield. Their pilot met her eyes and gave her a confused look in the reflection of the glass, since she was being unusually antsy. She put a finger to her lips to hush him, then sat down on the side opposite of her usual seat. Keeping the Boss at the edge of her vision, she crossed her legs again.

Big Boss tilted the iDroid down and looked apologetic.

"You want to get going? Pequod, let's head out."

"Boss. Roger."

No, that wasn't what she had been trying to say. But the Boss clipped the iDroid onto his chest strap and moved to sit in the open doorway as their helicopter gained altitude.

Quiet moved back to her usual seat so she would be a couple feet away from him. She waited until he was pulling the door closed, then stretched her arms above her head, pulling on her elbows. He ended up kneeling by the seat next to hers when the door was shut, and he looked at her as if wondering why she was so energetic. She ignored him and faced away, still stretching, and when she turned back around she caught him turning his head away quickly before he headed to his seat. Had he finally noticed her body? Maybe she was going about this wrong and had to be more direct.

For a few minutes he looked at the floor, his posture slightly tense, so she didn't try any more flirty displays. But he soon stretched out his legs and gazed at the ocean through the front windshield. She enjoyed watching his expression when he was thinking or daydreaming; she thought his lazy movements and the way he fidgeted were cute, a contrast to what most people would call his harsh or frightening features.

She decided to approach him again, and stood directly in front of him to put her hands against the cabin frame overhead, leaning forward to study his face, tracing the scars with her eyes. He had a few strands of gray in his brown hair and beard that one wouldn't notice unless they were this close. She wished she could hold his head between her hands and tell him how attractive he was.

Big Boss's lips parted in surprise as her breasts blocked his view of the ocean. He stared at them, then blinked rapidly and looked up to stare at her face. She gave him a small smile, and deliberately lowered her eyes to look at his parted lips and then back at his eye. He couldn't have missed it, because his eye widened and he froze up. But he didn't seem disgusted; perhaps he was just shy around straightforward women?

She didn't want to make him too uncomfortable and seem demanding. She took a step back, tilted her head, and raised her eyebrows as if asking, "Are you okay?"

He nodded tersely and chewed on the side of his lower lip where the scar was. How she wanted to kiss him there. But she turned to head back to her seat, making sure her back was arched for a nice display of her legs and butt. She was being very blunt, but again, he didn't have to look.

He did look. She quickly, imperceptibly, glanced back before she sat down, and he was following the movement of her butt with a confused expression. No disgust or indifference, she noted with relief. He quickly averted his gaze to focus on the closest seat, and-was he blushing? It was hard to see, but he was really blushing. Had he realized she had done it on purpose?

It took a while to get his attention again, because he avoided looking at her after that, and then became lost in thought, gazing into the blank space in the cabin. When their eyes finally met, he was more hesitant than usual to hold eye contact and examine her expression. She hoped she hadn't driven a barrier between them, but he eventually relaxed enough to catch some sleep after the sun had set.

It was progress for now. She didn't want to distract him further from the mission, so she would try again later.

* * *

On the flight back, Snake was sitting as usual in the doorway watching for threats as the helicopter sped off. He saw Quiet leap up beside him, hanging on, scanning into the distance, but she turned her face down to look at him earlier than she usually did. However, instead of focusing on his face to gauge how he was faring, her eyes were traveling slowly down his body, from his hair to his boots. It wasn't the look one would use when checking for injuries, and he only had scrapes. He looked away when her gaze came back to his face, swallowed in nervousness, and realized how dry his throat was. He barely paid attention to Kaz's voice in his earpiece praising him and going on about what they would be able to do next because of this success.

"Departing," reported their pilot. Quiet moved to her seat and looked out the window, still on guard. After Snake closed the door and sat down, he turned off the iDroid's camera and radio connection to Mother Base, and took out his handkerchief to wipe off the dust and sweat from his face and neck. He took a long drink from his canteen and got started on listening to the cassette tapes he had acquired.

After he had finished, he noticed Quiet stretching her back and arms, kneeling on the seats. She did that sometimes, and before, he had tried not to pay attention-though once he had gotten to know her personality, he had thought she was a pleasure to behold. But her behavior before the mission had made him wonder if she had been flirting. If so, what did she want from him? He felt anxious about that and realized a nagging suspicion had crept up in the back of his mind.

Ever since twenty years ago, he had stopped expecting any lasting or committed relationships, romantic or friendly, from anyone. He supposed he considered Kaz a loyal friend, and perhaps even Ocelot, now that the man had grown up to be less prideful and less infatuated by the legend behind "Naked Snake" and "Big Boss." But he knew everyone always had one's own motivations, and he couldn't expect them to support him forever.

He also acknowledged that he really did still feel uncomfortable around mysterious women because he had never had healthy relationships with any. Everyone had just wanted something from him, or had prioritized their missions and hurt him in the process. He couldn't forget, even if he had forgiven some of their actions. Thinking about his luck with women made him feel down and hopeless, but he shook his head and pushed away these thoughts; they weren't important-not now, or in the grand scheme of things.

When he came back to his surroundings, Quiet was gazing at him, lying on her front and leaning on her elbows. Her legs swayed in the air. She made a worried expression when he noticed her; it seemed as though she was asking if he was all right. He shrugged to convey an ambiguous reply: not really, but don't worry about it.

She frowned before she turned over to lie on her back with her arms behind her head; she was probably going to take a nap. Snake removed his heavier weapons so he could be more comfortable. He noticed the binoculars he had hit against a rock face when he had leapt to land flat behind cover. He held them up and tried zooming in and out looking around the cabin, and the transitions were a little jerky while the binoculars didn't sound normal. They ended up zoomed all the way in on Quiet's chest, but he didn't realize at first what the pale color was since she didn't breathe and lay perfectly still. He zoomed out once and froze, staring at how shapely her breasts were, then stopped himself and jabbed at the dial to zoom out all the way quickly. To his chagrin, she noticed the grating noise and tilted her head back, curious.

He put on an impassive expression, held up the binoculars, and tapped the side. "Just testing," he said quickly, "These got banged up earlier."

She looked away, put her arms down from behind her head, and folded them across her torso so that he couldn't fail to notice how her breasts pressed together. He stared.

He knew Quiet knew he had just been talking to her, that he had been watching for a reply. She had deliberately drawn his attention to her body. Now he couldn't stop staring.

He had to be honest with himself: he liked her company even outside of battle, he admired her strength and determination, appreciated her concern and her inquisitive expressions, and now he wanted to be able to hold her and feel her pressed against him.

This wasn't good. He didn't know what to do with women he cared about so he never did anything. He felt ashamed he even wanted to experience mutual affection, and didn't know if he deserved it after all the mistakes of the past and the conflicted life he lead now. He didn't even know why she had started working for him. Kaz hated her presence simply because she was from Cipher, and Ocelot probably trusted no one besides Snake, but at least gave her the benefit of the doubt.

But Quiet was flirting with him. Why she was flirting was unclear. What did she see in a half-blind man, missing half an arm, who had nothing outside of the battlefield? And she had to be at least ten years younger than him; she could probably have anyone she wanted if she just spoke and told the Diamond Dogs her reasons for joining. They could finally accept her.

But, unlike Paz, Quiet didn't want to work with anyone but him, which had made him and Ocelot believe she wasn't trying to trick everyone into trusting her. She really did care about only him. Maybe she had just come to like him the same way he had come to like her. Was it that far-fetched an idea after the time they had spent in each other's company? He would let himself believe it, at least for now, even though he could never get involved as long as her motives were unknown.

He had been holding the binoculars idly while thinking, and now Quiet was relaxed and completely still again. He checked on the pilot, who was bobbing his head to his own music, then focused on Quiet, this time with a lighter heart. He looked at everything, appreciating the curves of her hips, the smoothness of her skin, the light brown of her airy hair. He wondered what scars would adorn her body and her face if she didn't possess parasites with unsurpassed healing abilities.

Suddenly, Quiet sat up, and he almost dropped the binoculars.

She met his eye and smirked as if saying, "I caught you, you dirty old man." Snake almost wanted to jump out of the helicopter. He could feel his face flushing and he hung his head to hide it.

Okay, maybe he shouldn't have been so obvious about ogling her-but she had enjoyed it. He could hear her stifling a laugh. It sparked a giddy joy which he thought was ridiculous, but he looked up and managed a crooked smile. Quiet smiled back, and her playful expression was the most adorable thing he had seen in weeks.

She lay back down and curled up on her side, her back to the cabin wall, with her head behind the co-pilot's seat and a bunched-up cargo jacket as her pillow.

Snake watched her gaze at him with half-lidded eyes before she fell asleep. The fact that she would do that...

He was overwhelmed by an acute feeling he couldn't describe.


	5. Stimulating Shower

The clouds washed away, a flock of birds flying along with them, so free in the clean air. The sunlight brought a rainbow, and Quiet looked around at the beauty after fresh rain.

She looked down at the same time the Boss did; their eyes met. She realized his hands were still on her upper arms-one cold, one warm. He quickly withdrew them and they both stepped back, awkward, afraid of admitting what they wanted.

It was the first time he had touched her outside of necessity-though, to be fair, she had almost run into him trying to splash him with rainwater. She felt childish now. But she had been able to see a rare laugh, and he had held onto her for several seconds too long.

She turned and walked away holding her boots, disappearing.

She felt a little conflicted for leading him on when they couldn't get too close as long as he didn't know her motives. She countered that guilty thought by repeating that he didn't have to give her the time of day if he didn't want to. And even without the flirting, they had developed a bond unlike any she had experienced before. She couldn't imagine her former self trying to date someone while mute. Their mutual understanding wasn't something either of them could have helped, she thought.

She knew she was setting herself up to be hurt, or worse. The recent epidemic, though solved quickly, had brought up conflicting feelings again. How could she explain why she knew more than she should and why she was here? It would sound ludicrous: "I joined Cipher to get revenge on MSF, but then I forgave the Boss, but sometimes I still feel guilty about what my lost comrades would want, so I'm holding onto something that could kill you all because I don't deserve to move on"? She didn't want to predict what the Boss's reaction would be. She actually dreaded it more than she feared what the Diamond Dogs could do to her.

She descended the stairs to her cell. The lone guard nodded to her. These days, guards were posted more to diffuse animosity among the staff, and to prevent troublemakers from bothering her. The population on Mother Base was growing rapidly, and newer recruits tended to take out their frustration on anyone different before they acclimated to their new environment.

Quiet sat on the floor in a patch of sunlight to clean her sniper rifle. Only a minute later, she heard footsteps echoing on the stairs. She could tell by ear that it was the Boss, and paused her task.

The guard greeted him, and as he stepped through the cell door, he held up a dripping black piece of fabric with holes for her to see. She realized with embarrassment that they were her leggings which she had left outside in her haste to escape the situation. Big Boss wrung out the water at the shower area and then shook out the wrinkles. He came to her patch of sun and placed the leggings next to her to dry. Quiet nodded her thanks, but he had already turned to go.

* * *

They never played in the rain again. It rained once in the jungle, but Quiet only took a brief break to satisfy her thirst when no hostiles were around.

But a couple weeks later, she wished it would rain. Big Boss was dirty-really dirty. It didn't disgust her, but she wished he had gone home with DD instead of meeting her in the hot African desert for his next mission. Poor guy didn't ever take a break. She hoped he'd at least had enough water to drink and to brush his teeth.

He didn't have visible major injuries, but his outfit looked like it had been splattered with someone else's blood that had soaked through and dried. His boots were caked with dried mud and horse feces. There was a dark stain on the knee of his pants; Quiet guessed someone he'd caught in a headlock must have peed himself out of fright. There were grasses and dead bugs stuck to his back. His hair had become slick with sweat, and his beard had overgrown to give him a scruffy look. Sweat and dust lined his face and neck with brown-gray streaks, and he looked a little thinner-what had he been eating?

She frowned when she saw him, and he looked a little confused and hurt at receiving such a greeting from his buddy.

To make matters worse, when a patrol of six soldiers marched by, the Boss was apparently out of cardboard boxes, so he hopped into the closest thing he could fit into, which happened to be a dumpster sitting in the sun.

On the roof of the warehouse beside the dumpster, Quiet smacked her palm to her forehead.

Abruptly, a large shadow covered her and she rolled to the side just in time for a supply drop to burst open where she had been lying. The cardboard boxes, along with drinking water and ammo, had arrived a minute too late.

Two more groups of soldiers marched out of a distant building to follow the first group in a giant circle around the gated area. Big Boss's hushed voice in her earpiece told her that they were rookie guerillas being trained, so he would wait until they were done.

It was nearly dusk by the time the last group had vacated the area. A few guards came out of the building and were lazily making their way to their posts when Quiet noticed blue smoke creeping out from the gap of the dumpster lid. Of course the Boss would smoke his phantom cigar to make the wait time go by faster, but how could he even breathe in there?

The smoke faded and the dumpster lid lifted. Big Boss climbed out, his foot slipping on something that made a squelching sound. A piece of rotten banana peel was stuck to his shoulder, and the matted, bloody fur of some dead rodent was stuck in his knee brace. He didn't notice. He crouched at the bottom of the building and Quiet dropped the supplies down. He snuck away toward the guardposts, a swarm of flies in tow.

* * *

Quiet was, for once, grateful she didn't have to breathe. On the flight back, the stench of rotten rubbish, pungent cigar smoke, and everything else unhygienic emanating from the Boss was only disagreeable to her when the breeze carried it up her nose. The unfortunate pilot, however, gagged as soon as the Boss entered the helicopter, and actually put on a gas mask as soon as his hands were free. Big Boss swatted ineffectively at the flies, drank half a liter of water, and quickly fell asleep.

When they arrived, Ocelot was waiting with a bucket of water, disgusted, but Quiet wasn't about to let him douse the Boss with cold water in front of all his subordinates. She sidestepped in between Ocelot and the Boss, and jerked her thumb toward her cell where there was a shower, making sure her walk there looked extra enticing. Her hardworking Boss deserved a treat after being in the field for so long, she thought mischievously.

* * *

Quiet held the cell door open for the Boss, and he entered with hesitation. He lingered in the doorway and she guessed he probably just wanted to rinse off in a cold, temporary shower unit, which wasn't going to cut it for how filthy he was. Well, she was about to set an example and give him some encouragement to get clean.

She took off all her gear except for her underwear and leggings as the Boss watched. Ocelot and several of the soldiers who had been outside also filtered into the room, staying on the opposite side of the cell to avoid the Boss's smell. She saw Ocelot lean against the wall, cross his arms, and roll his eyes. He must look down on mixing business with pleasure-but Quiet didn't care if she was being silly.

She stood under the showerhead and waved the Boss over, pointing to a spot a couple feet away. She knew he enjoyed looking at her body, so she would give him a tantalizing show, and she hoped to convey that he didn't need to be hesitant around her.

As she washed herself off with an excessively feminine grace, savoring the feel of the slightly heated water on her dry and dusty skin, the soldiers oohed and ahhed, but she didn't pay them any mind. She was no stranger to the knowledge that people could think of her body in whatever ways they wanted, no matter how she behaved. Fantasies were human nature. She didn't interact with them, so what did she care? She only cared about the Boss.

Even when she turned around, gliding her hands over her hips and thighs, she glanced back at him through the spray, making it clear that this display was for his enjoyment. His appreciative gaze was intense, his face slightly flushed, and he drank in her leisurely, dancing movements without missing a detail. She felt empowered and aroused upon seeing her effect on him; she couldn't remember when she had last done something like this for a man.

Feeling refreshed, she turned off the water and looked at the Boss. Even though he was trying to keep a stoic expression in front of everyone, she realized the desire that he felt likely matched her own. She wondered what the Boss looked like right now under the solid codpiece of his armor; his legs stiffened when her eyes traveled there. She imagined herself tugging him into the spray so she could help remove his clothing and continue her teasing.

Struggling to regain her composure, she stepped back to encourage him to finally shower.

Thankfully, at that moment, Ocelot called, "Let's go, boys!" The soldiers ascended up the stairs as the Boss and Quiet simply stood there looking at each other. She heard footsteps near the metal grate that was her ceiling, and Ocelot's voice scolded, "Hey, give the Boss some privacy." There was the sound of boots running away; the jingling of spurs faded soon after.

Big Boss turned on the shower and let the spray hit him before he started removing his weapons. He set them on the floor outside of the muddy puddle of water, one by one, as if trying to delay taking off his gear. Untying his boots, he glanced up at Quiet, and she smiled gently. She didn't want to seem impatient by waiting for him to strip, so she decided to go outside to make sure no one was still hanging around her cell.

As she scanned the area, Quiet remembered how the Boss had appeared the few times he had worn a naked camouflage outfit. But if he was in excellent shape, why did he seem to lack confidence when they flirted? Both of them knew where their boundaries were, so that couldn't be the issue. She had a hunch that something must have happened to him in the past. It wasn't uncommon in their line of work to be stuck in bad relationships or to lose someone close. Well, his insecurity didn't bother her; to be honest, she had a soft spot for his humble modesty. She was a stubborn person, so she looked forward to seeing him come out of his shell.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she spotted a recruit in civilian uniform coming toward her. She crossed her arms, blocking the stairwell. But the recruit stopped in front of her, holding out clean fatigues, a bag in which to store dirty gear to be sanitized, and a few other small items. She smiled at Quiet and said in broken English that Ocelot had sent the clothes for Big Boss. Upon noticing the recruit was missing two fingers, Quiet realized they had extracted her from a mining camp. Quiet smiled back and took the supplies into her arms. As she descended the stairs, she let her bare feet make padding noises so the Boss would know who it was.

The sound of the shower met her ears, and she entered the cell with her eyes to the ground and placed the clothes on her cot. She kept her gaze averted-she had wanted the Boss to admire her, but it might be rude to look at him without permission. However, he could have gone elsewhere to shower, so she peeked up and saw his wet feet and ankles, which turned around to face her.

"Is that soap?" asked the Boss.

Quiet spotted it among the things on her cot and unwrapped the light yellow bar. With her head tilted down, she stepped toward the water, holding out the soap. Strong calves were in view now, bruises on the shins. There were scars around the knees from old cuts and stitches.

"It's okay. I'm not naked," said the Boss. Quiet felt a sudden disappointment.

"Not that you have to look," he added quickly.

What? Hell yes, she was going to look. She raised her head swiftly.

Standing halfway in the spray, he was wearing only boxer briefs and the eye patch, and his prosthetic arm was extended, palm up. He lowered it as Quiet took her time to study him by the moonlight filtering in. Water dripped from his hair and messy beard and the tip of his nose. His blue eye was intense as he watched for her reaction. The wetness of his lips highlighted their fullness; she unconsciously parted her own at the thought of kissing him. His suntanned skin glistened with droplets of water, and she took in his wide shoulders, his scarred arms, heavy with muscle, the way the cybernetic prosthesis fit seamlessly on his limb. She felt a bit shy when she noticed his nipples were hard from the chilly air, and she wanted to be held against the strong chest, to trace the scar on the right which cut across the top of his abdomen. Every muscle was apparent in his thighs, bulky from traversing in a crouching position for miles each mission. As for his package, she could see a vague outline of his sensitive parts through the clinging black undergarments, which half-covered the light trail of hair below his navel leading down to-

Her subject hastily stepped forward, tentatively reaching for her hand, snapping Quiet out of her naughty train of thought. She quickly gave him the soap she had forgotten, and saw a hint of redness spreading across his cheekbones before he retreated back under the water. She leaned on the cot and checked out his butt and back as he rubbed the sulfurous soap into his skin. He really was all muscle. He was not as lean as some men who gained an unnecessary amount of mass and stayed thinner to look good; she admired his body because it was that way from constant use, admired his scars because they signified his courage and resilience.

To wash his scalp and face, Big Boss removed his hairband and eye patch and tossed them onto the dirty pile of gear. It seemed as though he was avoiding looking her way-understandably, because the blind eye was one of the most obvious features that he didn't want others to see.

Quiet went to pick up her radio from the ground, and sprawled on her cot facing away from the Boss, pushing his clean clothes to the side. She browsed for a relaxing station. Finding a jazzy piano piece, she put her head down on her arms. This situation she had created seemed absurd, but she was excited and happy she had been able to experience it.

The shower squeaked off a minute later, and she heard the Boss shake off excess water with a clicking of his prosthesis. He came over to the cot to look for a towel, but there wasn't one in the stack of clothes. Quiet sat up and handed him her untouched and folded top sheet, which a person with normal skin would sleep under. He gave her an amused look with that rare, small smile, and he looked strikingly different. Quiet was surprised he was letting her see his light blue right eye-but maybe it wasn't a big deal after she'd already seen his body. The skin around the eye was pale from being covered, and his face looked less severe but also more vulnerable without the weight of black.

Shame struck her as she remembered the last time she had seen his blind eye. He didn't know she had been his attacker, did he? Maybe he knew and maybe it was all right. She defiantly replaced the guilty emotion with grim determination. It didn't matter if he knew. She would keep living the way she lived now, and her deeds would eventually make up for past transgressions. The recruit she'd met earlier reminded her of that. Lead by the Boss, she would keep doing good for others, and perhaps someday she would figure out what to do with the feeling that she was betraying old friends. Perhaps someday she would not have a phantom feeling of revenge gnawing at her mind whenever she was alone, pestering that the person she now cared about the most had been responsible for years spent in pain. She thought she had let go, but memories didn't naturally vanish. She should be patient; moving on took time...

"You okay?"

Startled, she focused on the Boss. While she had been ruminating, he had put on a clean eyepatch and dressed, and he was carrying the bag of dirty gear and the damp sheet under his arm.

She realized she must be making a gloomy expression; she tried to clear it and nodded. Apparently unconvinced, Big Boss peered at her dubiously, looking a little hurt, and remained in place waiting for a more honest reply.

Quiet jumped down from the cot. She pointed to herself, and then made little circles with her finger in the air near her head: she had only been thinking. But she realized she had ignored him right after he had shown her his blind eye. She hadn't reacted like a good friend. A friend would have treated it as no big deal, and maybe asked for the story behind it.

She stepped forward into his personal space and tried to look apologetic. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't his eye that had bothered her. She wanted to tell him she would accept everything he showed her. But she could understand if he was slow to trust. It had been a long time since he had shared a part of himself with someone, right? Over nine years.

He watched her expressions, and his stance shifted to become less defensive. He looked down, then back up at her face. Had he understood?

 _I'm okay_ , Quiet thought, _as long as you enjoyed spending time with me_. She wished she could give him a hug goodbye. She took a tiny step forward so there was not even a foot of space between them. But she couldn't touch, and she knew neither would he.

She let her eyes wander over his face, imagining what she had seen earlier, remembering the desire and the delight. She could tell that he was doing the same, his gaze soft.

"I'll look forward to getting clean more often," he said before he left, eyes smiling. "Thanks for the memory."


	6. Haunted Mind

Quiet lost consciousness from the pain and lack of oxygen, losing her grip on Shabani's necklace, as soon as the Boss hauled her out of the chlorine disinfectant tank. When she woke up in the Sick Bay the next morning, she was largely unclothed, and there were bright lights directed at her to simulate sunlight. An IV drip had been placed in her arm to make up for the nutrients that the parasites would normally provide. A medic told her that the deadly chlorine gas had burned away much of her skin, killing off some parasites, causing hypoxia. She felt suffocated, weak, and dizzy. Though it was supposed to be his day off, the Boss came by to relay that the children had asked after her, and he lingered until the medics told him that Quiet would be back at full health by the next day. The ever-curious doctors theorized they could develop a drug that would be more effective in treating flesh wounds, and wanted to try out the new MRI machine to see if they could spot anything new about Quiet's body. As usual, she agreed, but she didn't realize it would lead to her being seen as an enemy.

* * *

Big Boss cut the rope around her wrists and turned before she had looked up, leaving the room immediately, not even looking at her. It was the first time he had not given her a chance to communicate.

Well, what did she expect? How could he feel after finding out she had almost killed him once, and that she had probably come to his home-at least in the beginning-to do it again? How could he trust her after she had failed to tell him about her abandoned mission, or about the vocal cord parasites? She hung her head.

She had known they would eventually find out. She had been frozen in indecision, only concerned about redeeming herself and living in the present. She had thought it unnecessary to point at Skull Face when they already knew he was the world's greatest threat. She had wanted to ignore her past; she was no longer that person. But her silence had worked against her-she should have cooperated, at least a little.

She heard the squeak of a wheelchair and realized Code Talker was still in Room 101. He rolled to stop beside her.

"Do you understand me?" he asked in Navajo. She hesitated, and then decided tell the truth.

"Yes," she said in the same language-the first word she had spoken since her arrival.

She saw the wizened biologist's eyes widen with a darkening of his skin as he peered at her, then pointed.

"The parasite-that was the bilagáana?"

"Yes. He told me to use it here."

"The language?"

"English. But..." She looked at Code Talker, still upset, but determined.

"I have not spoken it. And I never will."

She turned away. She would never intentionally hurt the Boss or his comrades-would she? Not even for the friends she had lost? No. She must never speak English. She wanted to live, to move on. She wanted the Boss to live, even if he never spoke to her again. She would never speak the language.

"Never will," she repeated, turning away. "Never."

"I believe you. In the rain, I saw you." said Code Talker, interrupting her thoughts.

He had seen that? She wanted to laugh aloud at what nonsense he had seen: one day, a rainy water fight, another day, a torture session.

"As you know, I have a cure. It is as simple as an injection. However, it will not have an effect if administered after you speak."

"I know," she said. Code Talker frowned, perplexed.

"The cure should not affect The One That Covers, if that is your worry. But I would need to take a biopsy to be completely sure."

Quiet shook her head and bowed her head again.

"Thank you. But...my guilt and my grudge cannot be cured by that."

"A grudge against the Boss?" asked Code Talker, sounding surprised. She didn't reply. She wasn't even sure how to interpret the myriad of conflicting emotions she felt.

"But you will not speak," he affirmed.

"Never," she said, looking at the floor. "My punishment, my atonement, is silence."

"And regarding this, I will keep mine, but you know where to find me."

The biologist wheeled away, leaving her utterly alone.

* * *

Quiet didn't leave her cell after that. After she heard the Boss leave and return to Mother Base twice without visiting her, she realized her assumption was correct: he was avoiding her.

He returned injured the third time. She heard a stretcher being wheeled out as his helicopter landed. Among the greetings and voiced concerns of saluting soldiers, there was the sound of Miller's crutch, a medic giving instructions, the Boss answering in a pinched voice, and Ocelot telling the Boss to lean on him if he wasn't going to take a ride on the stretcher.

"Now, I tend to trust your methods, but don't you think bringing along more damage would have made sense? Especially against that gunship," Ocelot said in a lowered voice, so Miller and the others wouldn't hear. Quiet could picture the raised eyebrows with the disapproval in his tone. Big Boss didn't respond. She could hear him limping.

It troubled her to find out he was injured because she hadn't been there to help. Like her, he couldn't have been in a focused state of mind.

She had to reconcile with him before he got himself killed. She couldn't explain herself, but she had to apologize. She was going to salvage what remained of their bond, if there was anything left. She would tell him before his next mission. She would find a way, she thought.

* * *

What was the Boss doing climbing up all those stairs on the Medical Platform? Pacing back and forth on a ten-foot area?

He stopped. Was that the sound of him lying down? He was taking a nap there?

Fifteen minutes later, she realized: Not a nap-a nightmare.

Quiet wanted to go to him, but the guards at her cell, courtesy of Miller, were alert in the late afternoon. They watched her whenever she moved. They narrowed their eyes, put on their thermal goggles, and lifted their weapons when she blended in with her surroundings. She couldn't leave without raising an alarm these days, when she used to be able to sneak out more easily before this. But neither Ocelot nor the Boss visited, and no one called off Miller's guards.

She listened again, heard the Boss exhaling, standing up. A few footsteps. The fingers of his prosthetic hand clicked as if he had made a fist. What was he doing?

She heard the clanking of a crutch and asymmetrical footsteps nearby.

"Boss, there you are. What are you doing up there? This area is still under construction."

"The butterfly..."

"What?"

"Did you see a blue butterfly?"

"We haven't had any requests to collect those for the Animal Conservatory," Miller replied, his tone confused.

"Paz-she didn't survive?"

A pause.

"No. Don't you remember? She was a spy working for Cipher. She wanted to defect but carried out her mission to hijack ZEKE anyway. That lying traitor was no 'angel of peace.'"

Quiet could hear the bitterness in the way Miller snarled the words. There was no reply from the Boss.

"You really don't remember her that way, huh. Is it because of the coma? Well, I'll send the details to your iDroid later. In the meantime, let's get dinner. C'mon, Snake."

* * *

Quiet lay awake that night, listening to the Boss in his quarters on the Command Platform. Nightmares again, in the early morning. Was she the one in his dreams this time? Was he suffering because of her?

The time on her radio read 0419. The guard was bored and had started dozing off in his folding chair. When he had started his shift, Quiet had gone invisible, forcing him to use his thermal goggles, but she had remained sitting or lying on her cot. After a few times of doing this without doing other suspicious actions, it seemed as though she had trained the guard to stop going on alert when she disappeared from sight.

Now she slipped through the bars and outdoors into the cloudy, damp air, hastening to the Command Platform. She couldn't listen to the Boss anymore without doing something. Even if he didn't want to see her, she wanted to figure out a way to help. It seemed the only time he slept soundly was during naps, mostly in the helicopter after a strenuous mission. He napped outdoors on Mother Base almost as often as he slept in his quarters; she didn't know why.

She evaded soldiers on patrol by his building, and rushed up the stairs. The unmarked, locked door to his quarters was at the end of a dark hallway with a dim light. Would anyone else beside the Boss hear if she knocked? Miller would probably shout orders to shoot her as soon as someone spotted her and called him-she knew what she was doing would look extremely suspicious.

She decided to materialize on the other side of the door, and scanned her dark surroundings using her abilities, which took only a few seconds. Immediately ahead was a table with bench seats. The table was strewn with cassette tapes, papers, weapons, and ammo. A half-full coffee pot and mug sat on a tray on the corner. There was a gallon jug of water underneath the table and a telephone on the wall. Another door was directly ahead, and she tried the handle: it wasn't locked.

The next room had a mirror above a sink, and to the left of that, a metal desk, a chair, medical supplies, a radio, Sony Walkman, and more cassette tapes. On the right, a door that hung ajar lead to a bathroom. To the left sat a large gear locker in the corner near another doorway. Sounds of struggling and shallow breathing came from beyond that door, so Quiet opened it and swiftly stepped in.

The only things in this room were a nightstand with a carafe and cup of water, and a bunk bed. The bottom bunk was unoccupied.

Quiet rushed up the ladder at the foot of the bunk. The man was twitching in the tangled blankets and muttering incoherently, his skin clammy with sweat. It pained her to see the Boss like this; she guessed his nightmares had been worse ever since he had found out who she was. She regretted adding to his anxiety and felt like she would do anything to have their friendship back. She crawled up the side beside him, leaned over, and shook him by his shoulders.

He awakened in a flash, and before she even realized it, shoved her so hard she flew backwards off the mattress. She landed on her back with a thud and a yelp of pain. She hadn't expected him to react so reflexively upon awakening. Now she understood why he slept in the upper bunk.

When she looked up, her eyesight adjusting immediately to the bright light in her face, the Boss was kneeling on the bunk, pistol with flashlight aimed at her, combat knife gripped in the supporting hand.

"Quiet?!"

He looked more shocked than aggrieved. She sat up gingerly and winced, looking away from the light. She slowly turned her palms upwards, keeping her hands on the floor, to show she was unarmed.

Big Boss exhaled in relief. Quiet had always marveled at his ability to trust so quickly. He put away his weapons and climbed down with a slight limp, then flipped on faint red nighttime lights and held out his hand to pull her up. She rubbed her sore back and tailbone. She saw that the skin around his eye was dark with sleep deprivation.

"What's wrong?" he inquired, concerned. She was surprised at how quickly he had put aside their personal problems to focus on whatever had been important enough to make her break into his quarters. She shook her head-there was no danger at the moment. He looked around the room, confused, then addressed her again.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded and pointed at him, tilting her head. Was he okay?

"Yeah..." He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. She noticed now that he was wearing (other than his constant eye patch and prosthesis) only a t-shirt, fatigue pants and socks, and a weapons belt. A portion of his injured right leg was bulky with bandages beneath the pant leg.

"You were listening to me," he said warily. "You woke me from the nightmare."

She lowered her eyes and mimed writing with her hands. Big Boss opened one of the drawers in the nightstand, reached under his iDroid, and handed her a notepad with a pen on a cord.

He took a drink of water as she wrote, and then she passed back the notepad. He glanced at it, then looked back up at her, holding out the notepad.

"I don't know what you saw in my file at Cipher, but I can't read Russian anymore," the Boss said factually, without emotion. "Medics think it was because of the coma."

Quiet grimaced for unintentionally pointing out something he had lost. She hesitated; she had really wanted to avoid using English altogether, but it couldn't be helped. She wrote clearly on the paper.

 _"I should have told you who I was. I should have told you my intentions, but I wasn't sure of them myself. I did not intend to deceive you. Forgive me."_

What he did with her words was up to him. Even if he decided that they no longer had a reason to work together, she hoped her words would ease his mind.

He read it in silence, and Quiet turned around to leave, becoming invisible as she walked toward the door she had left open. She would leave him alone to think, and she wanted to get back to her cell before the guard woke up.

"Wait," called the Boss, setting down the notepad. She appeared again and faced him, hopeful. He looked tired but relieved.

"Thank you." He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but stopped. Quiet walked back to him to prompt him to speak.

"I have to apologize, too. I avoided you. I, uh..." He struggled to choose the right words, then remained silent.

It had been upsetting to find out she had been keeping secrets, because he had thought they had a strong bond and mutual attraction, right? He didn't need to tell her he had felt betrayed. She grabbed the notepad, scribbled quickly, and held it up for him to read.

 _"I understand. I am sorry."_

"It's not your fault," he said. He paused. "But you didn't see Code Talker for the cure?"

Quiet froze, distraught. She couldn't explain that. The longer she looked at the Boss's face, the more anxious she felt. He started to look worried, then blinked and shook his head dismissively.

"It's your choice," he said steadily. His trust for her was astounding.

 _"Someday, I hope to explain,"_ she wrote. He read it, then looked at her.

He lifted his right hand slightly, lowered it uncertainly, then held it out for a reconciliatory handshake.

Quiet felt like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She grasped his hand and stepped closer, holding onto it between them.

* * *

When Snake let go of her hand, he felt much less anxious than he had in the past two weeks. He and Quiet had their rapport back. But there was one more thing he wanted to fix.

"Will you do something for me?" he asked.

She nodded promptly, standing alert as though about to head out on a mission.

"Choke me again," he ordered.

Her eyes widened, and then she made an anguished expression. She stepped back, gloved hands balling into fists, staring at him, jaw set. She jerked her head no. Well, he had expected that.

"I'm disabled every time someone gets their hands on my neck. I have to stop it. Train with me."

He had awakened from the nine-year coma feeling as though he had relived all the missions of his career in his dreams, only to find himself struggling to survive in yet another nightmare. The enraged assassin's fingers around his neck, for no reason he had understood, had only been one part of the hellish experience.

Snake reached out for Quiet's wrists with both hands, and she let him take them, but hung her hands limply and bowed her head, refusing to comply. He lifted her hands near his neck. He didn't want anyone else to see his weak points. It had to be her.

"I don't blame you," Snake said in what he hoped was a calming tone.

Yes, she had nearly killed him-but he wasn't going to tell her that finding this out had triggered nightmares of that night. It had shaken his trust in their ability to work together, until she had sought him out minutes ago.

She finally looked up at him, and he let go of her wrists. But instead of placing her hands around his neck, she removed her gloves and tossed them onto the nightstand. He realized she was punishing herself, in a way-she was making sure she would feel the man she was strangling this time without the barrier of thick combat gloves. It wasn't necessary, he thought, as she gazed at him with a faintly worried expression. She stepped forward deliberately, and placed both hands around his neck.

He didn't like this-not at all. Instinctively, he grabbed her wrists. He felt a rush of sick adrenaline wash up from his abdomen up to his face, making him flush. Sweat broke out on his forehead. No, he could do this. He concentrated on his hands and relaxed his grip. She wasn't going to hurt him. She was going to help him get over the fear of being strangled to death. Just a moment longer, and he would be used to it.

Quiet frowned and started pulling away. He gripped her arms harder and forced her to put more pressure on his neck. The terror flooded over his head like a suffocating wave.

He fell to his knees. The furious assassin with black makeup, dressed in all black, was strangling him. He had just awakened from nine years of near-death, and he was going to die again. She hated his guts; he could see it in her clenched teeth and desperate grip. He tried backing away from her, but he couldn't breathe. His heart pounded as he gasped and lamely poked her forearm with the little coat hanger that was his hand. He didn't know why she hated him; he was going to die without knowing why. The hospital was on fire, orange raging around him, making him sweat uncontrollably from the pressing heat on every side, eyes tearing from the smoke. From the falling, burning rubble crashing all around him appeared a huge red man studded with bullets, burning, galloping toward him on a white horse with a flaming horn angled as if it meant to impale him. The giant leapt off the horse and gripped his neck with huge hands, burning his flesh, and he fell onto his back, staring at red-white eyes and a mouthless face glaring in contempt. The fire roared and he was helpless, trapped. He gasped and choked, terrified, blind eye wide open below the bandages around his head. The burning assailant flung his weak hand away and it bounced on cold mud. Dark skies let loose a torrent of rain and the man on fire sizzled away. The white horse, now missing its flaming horn, reared and slammed its hoof down into his one remaining hand, breaking the fine bones with a crunch. He howled in pain, but the sudden pressure on his neck throttled the outburst to a strangled gasp. A hazy, white figure stood in the distance, cloaked in a black cloth that whipped around in the storm. The figure pointed at him accusingly, then swung up on the horse and dashed off. Then the flaming, mouthless giant above him was back, gripping his burned neck with one hand while beating him in the ribs with the red fist, and the sudden, excruciating electric shock packed into the punch made his body jolt, made him throw his head backwards, hard-

The loud metallic thud startled Snake badly, making him flinch. A sharp pain throbbed in the back of his head where he had backed into and hit the metal wall by his bunk. He blinked, suddenly realizing he was back in his quarters. Quiet was scrambling to kneel over him, teeth clenched, her expression almost tearful, reaching for his head, her forearms bruised purple and red with obvious finger marks. He felt as though he were sinking steadily into a deep ocean, leaving his stomach to do flip-flops farther and farther above him. The room swam dizzily, the colors merging from black and dim red to faded beige to grayish blue, finally losing all color. His left arm twitched, then started shaking of its own accord so that it clattered on the metal floor. He tried to stop it, but it felt like the muscles in his phantom hand were contorting, cramps shooting through the clawed fingertips scrabbling on the floor. A seizure? Panic churned inside him and he tried to hold his prosthetic arm down with his other one. Quiet knelt above him, eyes wide, left hand pressed to the back of his head, right hand also trying to hold still his shaking arm. He opened his mouth to tell her to call a medic; she hadn't seen this because he usually wore a helmet in the field to keep the shrapnel from moving with any hard impact. But as he started to speak, his jaw suddenly snapped closed, catching the side of his tongue between his teeth with a wet crunching sound. The muscles in his neck and jaw were tensing up so tightly he suddenly had a vivid image of them bulging and ripping. He couldn't move his head or jaw, and he tasted salty, metallic blood. His mouth was filling with blood and saliva and he tried multiple times to swallow, breathing hard through his nose because of the pain. His legs felt sloppy and weak as he tried to stagger up toward the first aid kit in the next room. Quiet dragged him away from the wall, her face wet. The world was black and gray, but she wore no black makeup. Still holding onto his head, she swiped at his iDroid on the nightstand, knocking it onto the floor, then snatched it up and knelt behind him, laying his head on her legs while calling someone, her face shining from the device's glow. He heard her sobs as she uttered quick words in a language he had lost; he heard the ceaseless clattering of his arm and his rapid, labored breaths. He tried to rub the stiffened muscles in his neck and jaw. He felt dry fingers on his sweaty cheeks, felt a bruised, pale forearm wipe his mouth and saw it come away streaked with blood. Quiet let the iDroid fall beside her and held his burning face between her cool hands, bowing her head. Her hair brushed his forehead and he felt warm drops of wetness fall onto his skin.

He heard stomping, jangling footsteps, and Ocelot burst through the door, lacking his ammo belt and scarf and gloves, shirt undone. His sharp eyes swept over the scene and he rushed into the center room, then back, tearing the wrapper off a needle, kneeling, sticking it into Snake's upper arm. His unreadable face and the colorless room blurred into blackness.


	7. Moment of Peace

Snake woke up groggy and exhausted in his lower bunk bed. The first faint hint of sunrise filtered in through a cracked window, lending a pale blue glow to the room. Colors were faded, gradually seeping back into the world. His headache throbbed, and the muscles in his jaws, neck and shoulders, and left arm were sore. He felt sticky with dried sweat and there was a sour, metallic taste in his mouth. The side of his tongue ached where he had bitten it.

There was a presence on his left side and he turned his head, wincing from his stinging muscles. Quiet was lying on her side on the narrow bunk, mouth slightly open, looking weary even as she slept. Her arms were wound around Snake's left arm-now he noticed his prosthesis was missing. Her hand cupped the stump of his forearm, and her wrists showed fading red and purple bruises, worse on her right, where his bionic hand had held it in a vice grip. There was a dried streak of blood-his blood, he realized-on the back of her arm.

He was an idiot. He had thought he could have finally gotten over the trauma he'd survived when he had come to, but he had hit his own head on the metal wall, causing a seizure. He felt ashamed for losing control. He slid his arm out of Quiet's hands and sat up, feeling heavy because of the phenobarbital and whatever other drugs had been injected into him.

Quiet snapped awake as soon as she felt his movements, and she stepped off the bunk, scrutinizing him. He swung his legs over the side and reached out to touch the back of her hand. Even if she healed so quickly that the bruises would be gone in the next half hour, he had still harmed a comrade. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she shook her head mildly and stepped back. He'd make it up to her later, he thought.

His prosthesis was nowhere to be seen in the room. He got to his feet and Quiet had to hold onto his shoulders for a moment as he swayed in place. He staggered to the next room and leaned on the sink to rinse out his mouth and spit. In the mirror, his face appeared puffy with induced sleep and his eyelid was droopy.

He turned to go back to get the iDroid, but Quiet was already beside him handing over the device, which she had navigated to Ocelot's frequency. Snake sat on the chair next to the table with the medical supplies strewn all over. His bionic arm was also there, looking a bit scratched up. He waited for the call to go through as Quiet strode off to his bathroom and closed the door behind her. He heard the shower squeak on.

"Boss," greeted the drawling voice from the iDroid, "You all right?"

"Yeah," he replied hoarsely with his sore tongue.

"You had a seizure," Ocelot stated, "You remember it?"

"Yeah. Hit my head myself," Snake sighed, exasperated.

"That's what happened?" asked Ocelot, sounding as though he were raising his eyebrows. "We removed your arm, just in case. I saw the notebook. Asked Quiet to keep an eye on you in case you had another seizure. She knows what to do now if it happens in the field. A doctor checked up on you while you were out, but he wanted you to stop by later."

"Thanks," muttered Snake. He was lucky that Ocelot had been nearby in his quarters rather than in his Intel office.

"Of course. Take it easy, Snake. The men worry when you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

He grunted his agreement and hung up.

From the bathroom, the sounds of water stopped. Snake leaned his arms on his knees in the chair and let his vision become unfocused, waiting. He noticed how tired his body was after he had pushed himself the past few weeks. He wanted to shower and make sure he and Quiet were okay before sleeping off the rest of the seizure medication, which was still making him feel sluggish and drowsy.

His iDroid rang.

"Boss!" exclaimed Kaz.

"Kaz," greeted Snake. He heard a loud sigh of relief and exasperation.

"Where is she?! Did you call off the guards?"

"Uh, yeah," lied Snake. He figured Ocelot must have dismissed the guards at Quiet's cell without telling Kaz about the accident.

Kaz scoffed, and was probably about to express his opinion about Quiet again, so Snake cut in first before it made his headache worse.

"I'm taking the day off," he said quickly, "I'll see you later, Kaz."

* * *

Quiet stepped out of the bathroom dripping, wearing her top, bottom, and leggings. She set the rest of the gear on the floor. She had heard the last of the Boss's conversation with Miller, so she knew she was no longer expected to be in the cell. She still had to make sure the Boss wouldn't have subsequent seizures, and she didn't want to leave him alone after hurting him-even though she knew his reaction hadn't been entirely her fault.

She stopped in front of him, and he stood and was about to speak, but she jerked her thumb toward the bathroom, cutting him off. She knew he'd feel more comfortable after a shower. He headed there obediently, looking back once as she crossed her arms, as if to make sure she would still be there when he returned.

* * *

She was lying on her stomach on the bottom bunk, listening to upbeat synthpop on the radio she had taken from the other room, when the Boss returned from his shower. He'd only bothered to put on a t-shirt, pants, fresh bandages on his leg, and a clean eye patch, but he didn't seem to be awkward without the bionic arm. He put his iDroid into the drawer of the nightstand and looked as though he were waiting to say something. She turned off the radio and stood. He glanced at the damp spot she had left on the sheets because she never dried herself, and she shrugged apologetically.

"You okay?" asked the Boss.

She nodded, showing him her unblemished arms. She was simply disappointed she hadn't been able to help him.

"I shouldn't have forced you to choke me," he apologized. He looked down at his hand and the forearm missing a hand.

She stepped forward, making him look back up. Yes, she had been distressed, but she understood his reasons. No harm done. She reached up slowly and placed her bare right hand on the side of his neck.

He startled and his right arm twitched as though his immediate reaction was to push away, but he stood still. She slid her thumb forward to rest under his chin, putting light pressure. She saw his chest start to rise and fall rapidly, and his expression betrayed fear as his skin heated under her touch. Were the flashbacks that bad?

She raised her eyebrows expectantly and made a "come at me" gesture with her free hand, challenging the Boss to counter with CQC, but it only made him look uncertain.

He probably wasn't ready to attack her so soon; he always blamed himself more than necessary. So Quiet let her hand drop from his neck, and he exhaled and regained his composure.

"Thanks, but I don't want to practice right now," he muttered, blinking away and looking at the floor.

She grabbed the notepad from the nightstand and flipped to a blank page.

 _"Then next time."_

He nodded. He looked tired and distracted, and glanced at the bunk, but she wanted to write one more thing.

 _"I have missed you."_

Big Boss's eye widened. Quiet tossed the notepad onto the nightstand. Feeling bold, she took his right hand with her left. It was all right, wasn't it? Was everything between them back to normal?

For a second he looked at her expression, then extracted his hand from hers and clapped it on her shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. But she really wanted to hold him after what had happened last night. She stepped forward and touched her fingertips to his chest near the collarbone. He radiated warmth beneath the tan cotton t-shirt.

Her small touch was apparently all it took for the Boss to close the distance, wrap his arms around her, and pull her snugly against him. She pressed her hands against the muscles in his back, closing her eyes, heart beating fast, head light with joy. He smelled of laundry detergent, but something about his natural scent had always been delectable, and she was enveloped in it now.

He tucked his head into the hollow of her neck and inhaled deeply. He trembled as he exhaled and pressed her to his warmth. She could feel his fatigue, relief, and affection, and her cheek against his chest told her how fast his heart was beating. His one hand was warm and flat against her bare upper back, but he was holding her firmly as best he could with the other arm, too.

She hadn't ever been embraced quite this before-as if she were cherished. He didn't need to say he had missed her; she could feel it.

* * *

When he finally released her and stepped back, the air felt cool in contrast to his warmth. He checked her reaction, and she saw his hint of a smile reflecting hers.

"I have to get more rest. You staying?" he asked.

She closed her eyes and nodded once, happily, then went to close the door. Big Boss opened the small window all the way for more fresh air.

Then he sat heavily with a sigh on the lower bunk bed, letting his head fall forward. He swung his legs into the bed and stretched out, taking deep breaths. Quiet sat beside him on the narrow mattress, wrapping her arms around her thighs and resting her chin on her knees. She thought the Boss looked cute when he was sleepy and unguarded. She was lucky to be able to see this side of him, and not just in the helicopter.

"Can listen to music if you want," he mumbled. Quiet watched until his eye closed and his breathing became steady. She noted sadly that it didn't take him more than two minutes to fall asleep. But the sounds of his slow and even breaths were soothing, and she realized how tired she was, too. She had stayed up worrying and then had watched over him while he'd been sedated.

She wanted to stay beside the man who had given her a feeling of peace.

* * *

She awakened to distant sounds drifting through the open window: staff chattering, footsteps echoing, supplies being rolled on carts, the cries of seagulls, the creaking and clanging noises of construction. The room was lit brightly by the sun outside, and she felt a warm presence to her right. She turned her head; the Boss remained still, his chest rising and falling regularly. The nightmares hadn't visited him this time, she noted with relief.

She sat up noiselessly and took the iDroid from the nightstand, checking the time. An idea popped up in her mind and she navigated through the menus, glancing at the Boss to make sure he would not be disturbed by the faint beeps.

* * *

His friend was gone from the bunk bed when Snake woke up before noon. He lay still for a few more moments with eyes closed, waiting for brighter colors to return to his vision, savoring the remnants of sleep. It had been unusually relaxing, and other than some lingering muscle soreness and his leg wounds, he felt completely revitalized. He rolled onto his left side to touch the mattress with his organic right hand; the place where Quiet had been was already cool. He didn't fully understand why she cared so much for him, but regaining her as his trusted buddy made him content enough.

He got up to dress, and headed outside.

* * *

Kaz and DD met him along the way to the mess hall. Snake knelt to ruffle DD's fur as the wolf licked him frantically, and then DD trotted in circles ahead of the two men, tail wagging excitedly because he knew lunchtime treats were soon due.

"Snake, you look a lot better," approved Kaz.

"Yeah. Got more shut-eye."

"Hey, what's that?"

Snake looked up toward where Kaz had jerked his chin. On the nearest tower, two staff members on ladders were painting something on the Diamonds Dogs logo. Snake gazed wordlessly.

And then, by the painted snout, he glimpsed the small, delicate blue shape.

"A butterfly."


End file.
